Chapter 11

 "Cub, you're something else, do you know that?" Triana asked conversationally early the next morning.

 It was some time past sunrise.  Mist had left him just before dawn, while he was sleeping.  She probably couldn't much fathom the idea of having him wake up with her.  She was so anti-social, what had passed between them probably baffled her, and she was most likely afraid of it.  To keep from having to look at him and answer any uncomfortable questions, to admit to herself that she had did what she did, she snuck off.  He could appreciate it.  It was an entire plethora of new emotions and feelings for her, and she needed some time to sort things out.

 Tarrin was standing by the window, looking out over the tiled roofs of Shoran's Fork.  His room had quite a view, standing on a rise that overlooked the river, so the slate and gray of Var Denom rose up on the other side of the wide, sluggish river.  Despite his exercise from the night before, he felt remarkably well refreshed and energetic.  The wound in his chest was down to nothing more than minor discomfort, easily ignored, though it did tend to bite at him when he moved.

 It just felt so good to be standing.  Days and days in that bed had taken its toll on him, and he didn't want to lay down or sit down, not when he could stand.  Not when he could move.  He would accept the pain of it just to be able to do it.  He was rubbing at a wrist absently, trying to get used to feeling fur rather than steel, looking down on the residents of Shoran's Fork as they went about their morning activities.

 "Not really, mother," he replied in a half-attentive voice, watching a tall, rather wide matron woman carrying a large basket up the street.  She looked alot like Matron Luci from Aldreth.  Luci, the wife of Gart the miller, a round woman who was renowned through the village for the many types of bread and pastries she could bake.

 "I don't like being ignored, cub," Triana said in a frosty voice, a voice that made him turn and look at her immediately.  "That's better.  As I was saying, do you have any idea how long we've tried to get Mist to open up?"

 "Probably a while," he said.  "I'm just glad she's alright.  She is alright, isn't she?"

 "She's fine.  She's out with Kimmie.  I have the feeling the two of them are going to have a long talk today.  Just as soon as Mist finds the courage to break the ice with her.  It's about time," she grunted.  "She probably won't be bothering you again the way she did last night.  I cheated a bit on her last night to make her more likely to conceive.  That happened."

 "You mean--"

 "She's pregnant," she nodded.  "Or she will be in about ten hours."

 "How can she not be pregnant?  She either is or she isn't."

 "It's complicated, cub.  Just take it on faith that she'll be comfortably pregnant in about ten hours."

 He wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.  Having Mist right there made it all perfectly logical last night.  But this was this morning.  The simple fact of it was that he was going to be a father.  He wasn't married, Mist wasn't even a girlfriend, and she was going to have his baby.  But it really wasn't his. Were-cat males took no responsibility for parenting.  The females managed all that.  The baby was Mist's, he was just the sire.  But it was hard for his human morals to rectify that in his mind.  He did feel responsible for the baby.  It was his, and he felt it right and proper to have a hand--or paw, as it were--in the child's rearing.  But he doubted Mist would stand for that, and his mission was too important to take twenty years off to raise and nurture a child.  It was best for both of them if Mist took her infant and raised it in her own way, and out of his sight.  He had little doubt that the fights they would have over what to teach the child would be legendary.  Both of them didn't know when to back down.

 "I can say that doubts would be normal for you," Triana said, seeming to read his mind.  "But it's not our way to let the males meddle with how we raise our cubs.  That's not what's important, anyway.  You've wedged your foot in the door with her.  She trusts you, cub.  That's something I didn't think she'd ever do.  The best I ever hoped for her was that she could find a way to be friends with some of us, even if the friendships were wary, the way her relationship works with Kimmie."

 "I had a long talk with her about that last night," he said as she approached him.  "I think she'll be more open with Kimmie now."

 "I know she will," she said.  "You did something that nobody else could do, cub.  I'm proud of you for that."

 Tarrin blushed, and shyly looked away from Triana's eyes.  "I didn't do it for you, mother.  I did it for Mist."

 "And that's why I'm so proud of you.  I know it wasn't easy on you to do that.  Well, maybe it was," she grinned.  "Jesmind told me that you're not shy at all once you commit to--"

 "I know," he said quickly, cutting her off.

 "All of that aside, it was exactly what Mist needed.  I think she'll be just fine now."

 "That's really all that matters.  I just hope she'll let me see the baby."

 "Boy," Triana said.  "It's a boy.  And she won't keep him away from you, Tarrin.  Males don't get involved with raising cubs, but we don't deny them from seeing them either.  Besides, Mist would walk through fire if you asked her to."

 "Well, she doesn't have to do that," he said dismissively.

 "Anyway, come down to breakfast, then we'll start on your lessons again.  We're running out of time."

 Downstairs, he felt very uncomfortable.  They all stared at him.  Rahnee just stared at him, Singer tried to stare but was trying to be discreet, and Shirazi had a slight smile on her face.  They wouldn't say anything.  All three of them just stared at him.  He really didn't ever know what to say to them anyway.  They were kin, his kind, but they were...strangers.  He didn't fear them as he did humans, because they were his kind, but it didn't change the fact that he didn't know them.  He never knew quite what to say in the face of Rahnee's blatant sexual interest, or Shirazi's predatory bent.  Singer was a complete mystery to him.  He was their kind, but then again...he wasn't.  He was turned, had once been human, and that meant that his mindset and basic personality was somewhat different from theirs.  His upbringing marked him as different, and it was a different set of morals and beliefs than theirs.  Looking at them, he realized that that one fact made them treat him differently.

 "Well, we heard what happened with Mist," Singer finally said.  "That was sweet of you, cub."

 "And you thought he was too weak," Rahnee snorted at Triana.  "I think this means I have the right to court him now."

 "Mist was a special case," Triana shot back at the sharp-featured Were-cat.  "Besides, it's moot.  Laren will be here with Shayle and Thean around noon.  You can wait for him."

 "Who are Shayle and Thean?" Tarrin asked.

 "Shayle is my daughter," she replied.  "I have five children, cub.  Jesmind you know.  There's also Shayle, the next oldest, Laren, my first son, Nikki, my youngest daughter, and you.  Think of the others as step-siblings.  Thean is another male, one of the older ones."

 "Three males in one place?" Shirazi said in surprise.  "That's not very common."

 "How did you know they're coming?"

 "I'm a Druid, cub," she said plainly.  "You keep forgetting that.  Thean has enough talent to be able to use the spells of sending.  I got a message from him this morning."

 "Oh," he said.  "What are they like?"

 "Shayle is rather mellow," Triana answered.  "Laren is--"

 "A disappointment," Rahnee said with a snort.  "I've never met such a vain, self-centered--"

 "He has a few faults, but he's still my son, Rahnee," Triana said in a cool voice, a voice that instantly cowed the sharp-featured Rahnee.

 "You should have beaten that out of him as a cub, Triana," Shirazi said calmly.

 "He picked that up after I set him loose," Triana grunted.  "If he acted like he does now back when he was under my care, I would have killed him."

 "I think it's just a form of rebellion, Triana," Singer said.  "He's always felt a little overshadowed by you and his older sisters.  I think it's just his way of getting attention."

 "It better be," she said bluntly.

 "Anyway, Thean is one of the older males.  He can tell you all about your side of our society.  He has alot of experience."

 "I'll say," Rahnee said with mischief in her eyes.

 "As you've seen, Tarrin, Rahnee has something of a one-track mind," Singer said with a wink.

 "You keep your track, I'll keep mine," Rahnee shot back.  "So I like males.  Deal with it."

 "Rahnee is the oversexed tart among us, Tarrin," Shirazi added, giving Rahnee a cherubic grin.  Seeing humor out of Shirazi was something new."

 "I'm no tart, and there's no such thing as oversexed," Rahnee huffed in reply.

 "This from the Were-cat who wants to be human so she can be a prostitute," Singer teased.

 "I can't think of a better way to make a living," Rahnee shrugged.  If it was meant to be an insult, it had no effect on the blunt, daring Rahnee.  She seemed to have little shame.

 "Why don't both of you drop it," Triana said.  "Tarrin isn't used to that from us yet."

 "I can deal with it, mother," Tarrin said cooly, giving Rahnee a challenging stare.  Jesmind had warned him about Were-cat females.  He had a good idea that if he admitted they were embarassing him, they would just try harder.  "At least that will be a problem I won't have."

 "What problem?" Triana asked.

 "Finding a date," he said, staring right at Rahnee.  "You probably scare them off.  You really should say hello before you start trying to undress them."

 The other three laughed, but Rahnee's ears almost laid back, and she gave him a hostile look.  "We're all adults here, cub," she finally managed to say.  "This is what adults do.  You'd better get used to it."

 "Rahnee, you have the mentality of a human teenager in puberty," he told her.  "You were supposed to outgrow the period where you think of nothing but what's under a man's trousers."

 Shirazi laughed so hard she almost fell out of her chair.

 Rahnee shot Shirazi a venemous look, but then her face turned calm.  "Just wait til your wound heals, cub, and I'll show you why that's a good thing," she promised him.  "No male forgets a night with Rahnee."

 "Why?  Because it was that good, or because some things are too horrible to forget?"

 Shirazi fell over backwards with her chair.  Her feet and tail were standing straight up, her toes flexing and the tip of her tail shuddering as she tried in vain to speak, but then just gave up.  "I think...I broke...my tail!" she finally managed to wheeze.

 "You better put your tail down, before Rahnee sees it and starts getting the wrong idea," Tarrin suggested lightly.  That sent Shirazi back into gales of helpless laughter.

 Rahnee gave him a withering look, standing up abruptly.  "I don't have to sit here and stand for this," she declared in an indignant tone.

 "I was so hoping that you'd stand here and sit for this instead," he replied with a steady gaze.

 Rahnee stormed out in a seething fury, and that made Shirazi only laugh harder.  Singer had her face on the table, on her paw, as the other pounded against the table as her shoulders heaved with mirth.  Triana was even laughing, putting a paw on Tarrin's shoulder and patting it.

 "That was masterful, cub," she said with another chuckle.  "I haven't seen anyone dress Rahnee down like that in a while."

 "At least...he wasn't...undressing her down!" Shirazi gasped from the floor.

 "I hope she's not too mad," Tarrin grunted.

 "She'll get over it," Triana promised.  "She'll probably respect you for standing up to her like that."

 "Rahnee likes them fiesty," Singer laughed.

 "Don't worry, cub," Triana said, looking where Rahnee went.  "She's not normal.  Rahnee's mind is a bit one-sided."

 "At least I think about other things," Shirazi grinned as she got her chair back in a standing position, then sat back down.  She had her tail in her paws, rubbing a part of it delicately.  "Rahnee goes around in a state of perpetual heat."

 After a hearty breakfast that was probably too much food for him, Tarrin wandered away from the others.  He hadn't really been in the inn, and he found out that it was very large, very elegant, and very empty.  Triana had kicked everyone else out when she rented it, and there was only a very small complement of maids, cooks, and valets on hand.  The inn was decorated with very expensive-looking art, and rare carpets from the mysterious lands east of Nyr, and china and vases from the masters of Telluria.  Made by the Tellurians, bought and transported by the Wikuni, and sold wherever they made port.  He worried about his Wikuni.  Keritanima, alone on that ship, sailing back into the pits of the Abyss.  Goddess only knew what was waiting for her there, but with Miranda to help her, and Binter, Sisska, and Azakar to protect her, Tarrin felt that she had a good chance of coming out of it in relatively good shape.  She knew now that all she had to do was call, and that made him feel better.  If she were in trouble, or she just needed to talk, she could reach out to him or Allia.

 Allia.  She'd been missing this morning.  So had Dar, Dolanna, and Faalken.  Odds were that Dolanna went to see Renoit, or was out doing something, and had brought the others along with her for some reason.  The city was probably safe enough now that Triana and his kin had eradicated anyone hostile to him.  Anyone hostile to him were the same ones hostile to them, so they would probably have no trouble moving around.  Of them, Dar was the only one he'd really worry about, but he was in very good company.  The other three were veterans, survivors, and they'd look after the young Arkisian.  In many ways, Dar would probably be better off out there than them.  Dar was Arkisian, and that would get them into some places that they normally wouldn't be allowed to go.  The others didn't know the language.

 He stopped and looked at an old portrait of some strange, yellow-skinned man with very narrow eyes.  He was seated in front of a strange white wall with panels in it, wearing an elaborate robe of yellow silks.  The paint and style used to make the portrait were elegant, different from the styles of the west, giving the painting a much more exotic aire than the mere appearance of the man suggested.  He'd never seen a man like that before, but the general descriptions he'd heard meant that he was from that land from beyond Nyr.  It was amazing that the portrait had managed to come so far, and remain in such good condition.

 He gently touched his chest.  Last night's escapade notwithstanding, the injury was healing quickly and very well.  With luck, there would be no lingering effects once his body was done mending, as some severe injuries did occasionally cause.  Then again, those lingering effects could probably be healed with Sorcery.  Sorcery couldn't heal the wound, but it could probably correct any effects caused by his body not healing itself properly, as Mist's body didn't correctly heal itself.

 Mist.  He hoped she was alright.  He hoped she was talking with Kimmie, getting things out in the open, accepting her bond-child's trust in the same way she had accepted his.  Mist needed someone, after being alone for so long.  And after he was gone, if she didn't find someone to be her friend, she would be alone again.  But Kimmie was a patient girl, it seemed, and she could probably bring Mist around.  She'd stuck with her feral bond-mother this long, he had no doubt she'd stay with her now that it looked like she was about to get through the formidable defenses the wild Were-cat kept around herself.

 He could sense Triana's approach.  She appeared at the end of the hall, staring at him calmly.  "Come on, cub," she called.  "We have alot to do today.  There's still much you need to learn, and we don't have much time."

 "Yes, mother," he said, looking at the portrait one more time.  Then he moved to obey her.

 After a very long session of instruction, where he began learning the customs of the other races of Woodkin, they broke for a meal, then went right back to it.  The customs could be simple or complicated, depending on the race, and they seemed to blur together after a while.  It was nearly evening when Triana finally stopped, and only because the knock at the door wasn't anyone he'd seen before.

 The Were-cat that was on the other side of that door was tall and stocky.  A male, with red hair like Jesmind's, grayish fur with darker gray stripes, and a nasty scar on his left cheek.  He was ruggedly handsome, but he looked ferocious, like a street fighter.  But his voice was gentle and warm when he spoke.  "Triana," he said with a smile, stepping into the room.

 "Thean, it's been a long time," she said with a nod, taking his paws in hers.  "Come in, come in.  Are Shayle and Laren with you?"

 "They're downstairs.  You're looking very well."

 "Age does that.  Thean, I'd like you to meet Tarrin.  Tarrin, this is Thean."

 Tarrin stood up and looked at the older male.  His scent was a little different from a female's, for obvious reasons, and something deep inside him reacted to the male's presence in an odd way.  It wasn't challenging or threatening, it was just an awareness of this larger male.  Like marking a potential rival.

 Triana chuckled.  "I told you," she said cryptically.

 "You did," he agreed.  "Tarrin, it's good to meet you."

 "It's good to meet you too," he reciprocated.  "Triana's said good things about you."

 "I'm flattered," he said with a grin at the elder Were-cat.  "Strong, isn't he?"

 "You have no idea," Triana answered.

 "What do you mean?" Tarrin asked curiously.

 "He means that you've got your hackles up," Triana replied.  "That's somewhat normal when two males meet for the first time.  It's something like a feeling out process."

 "I didn't--"

 "Save it, cub," she said.  "Right now, everything about you is radiating your strength.  You don't even realize you're doing it.  Thean would be doing the same thing, if he wasn't old and decrepit."

 "Triana!" Thean objected.

 Tarrin looked at both of them, then he caught his own scent.  She was right, his scent had shifted in its texture.  He was actually trying to do that?  He relaxed a bit, and realized again that he'd been standing in a very stiff posture.  He had no doubt in it now, and he felt a little foolish that he'd been doing it.  "Well, this is, embarrasing," he said sheepishly.  "I'm sorry."

 "Nothing to be sorry about, Tarrin," Thean told him.  "It's normal.  I'm the first male you've ever met, so it's the first time for you.  Us males kinda like it.  It tells us that the other males aren't getting soft.  They like to spoil us," he said, pointing at Triana.

 "I'm about to do something worse than that," she warned.  "Go get Shayla and Laren for me."

 "Of course, Triana," he said with a fanged grin, then he left them.

 "How long have you known him, mother?" Tarrin asked curiously.

 "Since he was a kitten," she replied.

 "He's nice."

 "I like him.  He's Nikki's father."

 Tarrin stared at her.

 "I'm not celibate, cub," she said bluntly.  "How did you think I had four children?"

 "Well, that's not what I meant."

 "You meant that you don't think your elders still like doing things you cubs like to do," she snorted.  "For your information, if you weren't my son, I'd probably be fighting Rahnee over you."

 Tarrin knew when it was time to keep his mouth shut.  He may be able to play games with Rahnee, but Triana was another matter.  "Uh, doesn't that mean that Jesmind was doing things wrong when she--"

 "Not at all.  You're a bond-child, cub.  That's not a literal relationship.  In other Were kinds, bond-children often become the mates of their bond-parent.  But it is customary for the bond-parent to wait until the child is accepted into Fae-da'Nar until they take them for mate, so in that way, Jesmind was wrong to take you for mate so quickly."  She grunted.  "It's really a moot point.  There aren't enough turned Were-cats for it to matter."

 "Just me and Kimmie, right?"

 "Alive," she elaborated.  "There have been others, but the human mind can't seem to cope with the instincts.  Out of a hundred or so who have been bitten, only you and Kimmie managed to survive with your sanity.  That's why we absolutely forbid biting people."

 "It's also why you didn't just bite people to increase your numbers," he said insightfully.

 "That's clever, cub," she commended.  "We wouldn't do it anyway.  Biting someone and turning them against their will is a serious violation of our laws.  I taught you that."

 "Yes, but wouldn't they suspend it since there are so few of us?"

 "They don't want any more of us, cub," she said pointedly.  "I think Fae-da'Nar would be tickled pink if we all just dropped dead.  It would be a serious load off their minds."

 "Then why do you stay with them?  Why don't the Were-cats just abandon Fae-da'Nar?"

 "Because they'd declare us Rogue, and then come and kill us," she replied bluntly.

 Thean returned with two more Were-cats.  The female, Shayle, was tall and willowy, with narrow hips and a marked flat-chestedness that was unusual for the rather buxom breed.  She was still very pretty, rather more cute than pretty, with cherubic cheeks, bright green eyes, and sensual lips that were curled up into a light smile.  She wore a simple pair of tanned leather leggings and a tight-fitting buckskin vest that left her midriff bare.  Her hair was the same tawny color as her mother's, but her fur was a tabbycat's orange with darker stripes.  The other male was thin and about half a head shorter than him, with features that clearly related him to Triana.  But his hair was black, his fur a dark brown with dark stripes, and his eyes were small and set close together.  He wore a black doublet over a linen shirt, and matching black breeches.

 "Good, you're here," Triana said.  "Shayle, Laren, this is Tarrin.  Tarrin, Shayle and Laren."

 "It's good to meet you," Shayle said in a bright voice, coming in and reaching out for him.  He offered his paws the same way he saw Triana offer them to Thean, and she took them and held them for a moment.  "You have Mist's scent all over you," she remarked.

 "Shayle's got a nose on her," Triana remarked to him.

 "Well, yes," he said self-consciously.

 "Good," she winked.  "It's about time she came down off her mountain.  Where does the line form?"

 "Shayle!" Triana snapped.

 "Well sorry," she snorted, letting go of his paws.

 Tarrin was a bit startled.  Getting that from Rahnee was one thing, but getting it from a sister was something very, very different.

 "Laren," Triana prompted.

 The male stepped forward slightly, and gave him only the most cursory of glances.  "Hi, or something," he said distractedly.  His posture and scent were hostile, and something about that caused Tarrin to react in a similar manner.  He drew up to his full height and stared down at the smaller Were-cat with a flat look, daring him to say that the same way again.  Tarrin's display made Laren's eyes go flat, but he didn't attempt to challenge him in either height or posturing.  He simply backed off.

 And got a slap to the back of his head.  "You don't speak to one of the family in that way, boy," she said heatedly.  "Not your sisters, not me, and not my bond-child.  Apologize."

 "Sorry," he snorted.

 Triana cuffed him.  "Say it with feeling," she growled.

 "I'm not--"

 "You won't live to finish that if you try, boy," Triana snapped, showing him a paw full of wickedly long claws.  "You may like playing at this attitude game, but you'll lose it when you're around me, do you understand me?"

 "Yes mother," he said in a quiet tone, but his eyes were flaring with anger.

 "Now apologize," she said furiously.

 "I'm sorry," he said in a voice that was hardly sincere.

 "Get out," Triana said ominously, pointing towards the door.

 "Whatever you say, mother," he said to her flippantly, then left the room.

 "And that was my son," she sighed after he was gone.

 "That was entertaining," Thean said in a relieved tone.  "I was getting ready to pull them apart."

 "You should just let Tarrin thrash him, mother," Shayle said.  "I don't doubt that he could," she said, looking at him in a way that made him feel very uncomfortable.

 "Why did he do that?" Tarrin asked.

 "I really don't know," Triana said.  "He's been like that for a few decades now.  Nobody knows why."

 "I need to go get something to eat, mother," Shayle said.  "I'm starving.  Be right back."

 "Alright," Triana said as Shayle and Thean left.

 Tarrin's ears twitched.  "She--"

 "Save it," cub," Triana said.  "She's not your sister.  She's my daughter.  The two of you aren't related at all, so she can chase you all she wants."

 "But you're my bond-mother."

 "That's right.  I'm your bond-mother.  You're not related to my other children any way except through me.  To my daughters, you're fair game."

 "Oh.  It still feels weird."

 "Get used to it," she said.  "You already know how Jesmind feels about you, and Shayle and Nikki have similar tastes in males.  I think they get that from me," she said absently.

 "If I'm not related, then why call me family?"

 "You're making this harder than it needs to be, cub," she said flatly.  "You're my bond-child, but you're not related to any of my other children.  You're really not related to me either.  If I wanted you, I could take you for mate myself.  But I don't think of you like that.  To me, you are one of my children.  Just not related to the others."

 "If you say so," he drawled.

 "I do.  Now let's go downstairs and get some dinner," she said, smacking him on the backside lightly.

 The meal was both easy and tense.  It was easy in that Shayle and Laren were Triana's children, and she took the time to catch up with them.  It was tense in Tarrin's presence.  All he could do was stare at Laren and narrow his eyes, and he had no idea why he didn't like the smaller Were-cat.  He knew it was impulsive, instinctual, but he still couldn't control it.  After the meal, Triana gave him one quick look, then turned to Thean.  "Thean, I think Tarrin needs some real exercise," she prompted.  "Why don't you take him for a short walk?"

 "I think that's a good idea, Triana," Thean replied smoothly.  "You feel up to it, cub?"

 "I guess so," he replied to the older male.

 "Come on then," he said, standing up.  "We'll walk down to the river."

 It had been the first time he'd been outside in a long time.  It seemed a lifetime.  The city smelled as most cities did, a foul combination of the worst smells of human and animal, mixed in with the smell of decay, with just a hint of excrement.  But he'd grown used to that miasma, and found it easy to ignore as the two males walked slowly and easily along a wide avenue that sloped gently down towards the river.  The other citizens gave the pair strange looks, but they probably mistook them for Wikuni, for look was all they did.  The people of Shoran's Fork dressed much differently than they did in Sulasia.  Men and women both tended to wear robes, some more elaborate or expensive than others, which was probably some kind of indication of wealth or rank.  Arkisians were dusky skinned and tended to have black or dark hair, but that hair was kept exceptionally clean and neat, and it was often greased or oiled to make it shine in the afternoon sun.  Women wore their hair long, men wore theirs short, but most of the men he saw had strange narrow goatees with no moustaches.  Looking at the oiled, pointed facial adornments made him rub absently at his own chin.

 "Don't worry too much about that, Tarrin," Thean said after a couple of blocks.  "You and Laren are young.  That kind of a reaction isn't uncommon among younger males."

 "It's more than that," he said.  "He was disrespectful to Triana.  That was unforgivable."

 "Let her deal with that," he said with a chuckle.  "Her punishment is usually worse than anything we could ever dream up."

 "Is it always like that with the females?" he asked in a curious voice.

 Thean chuckled again.  "Well, given the circumstances, it's not really unusual," he said.  "Triana told me about Mist, and about Rahnee.  Then there was Shayle.  You're not used to that."

 "No."

 "It's not uncommon, but in a way, it was a little unusual," he said.  "We don't often gather, so we do act just a little different in groups.  We're solitary as a race, usually.  Some females, like Rahnee, spend all their time hunting down males.  Rahnee's been in heat for about sixty years, but I think it's because her own two children both died before they reached adulthood.  She's alot like Mist, she just wants a healthy baby.  It's an instinct, and as I'm sure you've noticed, we're very attentive to our instincts."

 "I didn't know that," he said quietly.

 "I suggest you don't bring it up either," he warned.  "Rahnee gets violent when people talk about her dead children."

 "That's a good idea.  What's it like when we're not in groups?"

 "That's up to you," he said mildly.  "You'll find your own place, Tarrin.  Some males, like me, travel around alot.  I'm something of a student of history, at least the history before I was born, so I move around alot, going from city to city to read in their libraries.  Others, like Laren, like to stay more or less in one area, where they can easily be found.  It's entirely personal."

 "But the females don't act like that--"

 "No, not usually," he grinned.  "They're gathered in a group, so they have to be a little bolder than usual.  Think of it as a status thing.  Were-cat females are alot like human men.  They like to brag about their prowess."

 "Jesmind told me about that," he said.

 Thean chuckled again.  "Jesmind.  I'm surprised she's still alive.  What a hothead.  She has more temper than Mist."

 "I noticed."

 "How has she been?  I haven't seen her for nearly fifty years."

 "Well, the last time I saw her, she was doing alright," he replied.  "I think Triana saw her last, though.  You'd have to ask her."

 "I might.  Anyway, the females aren't usually this, bold, when you meet them one to one.  It's usually on their minds, but they're not quite so pushy about it.  Don't worry, cub, a female would never force you to do anything you don't want to do.  She'll respect your decision, but don't try to lie to her."

 "What do you mean?"

 "Don't say 'no' when the rest of you says 'yes.'  When you're interested, it shows in your scent.  Declining a female when she can smell your interest is a serious insult."

 "I did notice that," he said absently.  "The scent thing.  The texture of Mist's scent changed quickly when--"

 "Exactly," Thean said.  "It's the same for us.  But to ease your worries, the entirety of Were-cat society doesn't revolve around sex."

 "You could have fooled me."

 Thean laughed.  "You're dealing with a rather hard-pressed pack of more notorious females, Tarrin," he confided.  "They're not the mainstream.  Rahnee's aggressiveness is something of a scandal, even among our kind.  Just wait til you meet some of the mellower females, like Nikki, Kimmie, and Miko.  You'll see that Were-cats are alot like humans, they represent a wide spectrum of personalities."

 "I don't know," Tarrin sighed.  "I feel like a stranger, Thean.  I know they're my kind, but they feel so alien to me."

 "You've been alone most of the time you've been Were, Tarrin," Thean said. "Your outlook on life is based on human morals.  You've more or less taught yourself what it means to be Were, and for you, that's what matters.  You're not familiar with how those of us who were raised in this society see things.  And if it works for you, cub, don't change it.  You don't have to change who you are to be part of us.  We'll accept you, no matter who or what you are."  He scratched absently at the side of his neck.  "If you want to stay away from us, that's your decision, and we'll honor it.  As long as you obey the rules of Fae-da'Nar, you can do whatever you want, and be whatever you want."

 For some reason, that made him feel much better.  "Thanks, Thean," he said sincerely.

 "No thanks needed, cub," he smiled.  "I'm just setting things out for you.  I think Triana sometimes forgets to explain things.  She just says 'this is the way it is,' and doesn't bother explaining why.  I've found that knowing why is usually more important than knowing what."

 "Dolanna says the same thing," Tarrin said.  "I guess it's some kind of theory."

 "Dolanna?"

 "A Sorceress," he replied.  "A very good friend of mine.  She's very wise."

 "I think I'd like to meet this Dolanna," Thean said speculatively.

 The River Ar was huge.  That was being modest, however.  It was nearly two longspans across the massive mouth of the river, an immense gulf filled with surprisingly clear water.  Tarrin would have guessed that such a large river would have muddy water, but the river Ar ran relatively clean.  It explained why the shallow bay's water was also rather clean.  The sides of that great width were taken up with stone quays and wooden docks, docks that had to extend around a hundred spans into the river to give ships enough water to dock to them.  To make up that distance, wide wooden platforms had been built over the water, upon which were constructed warehouses and other buildings.  A good length of the city of Shoran's Fork was set over water.  Tarrin and Thean stood at the end of an empty pier, looking out over the fresh water of the river, looking out at the city of Var Denom.  There were many ships in the river, moving easily against the very sluggish current of the river.

 "I've always liked the Twin Cities," Thean said conversationally as he looked down into the water.  "It's the only place I've ever been where two cities in different nations stood within sight of each other, and weren't at war."

 "Was it always like that?"

 "More or less," he replied.  "Var Denom was originally part of Arkis.  It was really part of Shoran's Fork.  But a long sequence of events I won't go into caused it to declare independence.  The King of Arkis at that time allowed it.  He wanted an independent city sitting there because at that time they were having trouble with Darronam, a kingdom that once stood west of Arkis.  An independent city with its own lands put something between the two squabbling empires.  Old King Shul was a wise man.  He ceded a little land to avoid a war.  Most kings wouldn't do that."

 "What happened to Darronam?"

 "Faded into history, my boy," Thean replied.  "Darronam was very aggressive, and they eventually pushed once too often.  Tor did them in, with help from Arkis.  What was once Darronam is now the free duchy of Saranam."

 Saranam was a name Tarrin recognized.  The Free Duchy that separated Tor from Arkis.  "Why is Var Denom's buildings so much older than Shoran's Fork, if they used to be the same city?"

 "Fire destroyed Shoran's Fork about a hundred years ago," he answered.  "The river was too wide for it to cross to Var Denom.  When they rebuilt, they took the chance to plan out the city's streets a little better.  Old cities tend to get very narrow and twisty, because streets disappear when people build things on top of them, and new ones are made from buildings that are torn down."

 "Oh.  That was a good idea," he agreed.  "Aldreth is spread out, with lots of space."

 "I've been there," he said with a chuckle.  "I bought some steel tools from a monster of a bald man named Karn.  That had to be twenty years ago."

 "He's still there," Tarrin replied.  "Still smithing.  Some people think he's tougher than stone, because he's more fit than men half his age."

 "Dals are like that," he told the younger Were-cat.  "That man was from Daltochan, or my tail is pink."

 "He's a Dal," Tarrin affirmed.  "Of course, now, there are probably more Dals there," he said with a grunt.

 "I heard about that.  Well, don't worry too much about it, cub.  Dals aren't a very savage lot.  They'll treat the people in the land they occupy fair."

 "It's not them I'm worried about.  I heard that the Dals made arrangements with some of the Goblinoids that live in the mountains.  There are Goblinoids in the Dal army."

 Thean looked sharply at him.  "I think that would be impossible, cub.  Goblinoids hate humans.  They'd never agree to that."

 "I have it from a reliable source, Thean," he said.  "I trust it."

 "Hmm," he hummed.  "Sathon has a grove a few days out of Aldreth.  I think I'll send a message to him and ask about this."

 "Sathon?"

 "A Druid," he answered.  "The Druid of Westedge.  He's responsible for watching the Woodkin who live near Aldreth, and watching the humans in Aldreth to make sure they don't spill onto our land."

 "I didn't know about that."

 "I doubt you would have.  Sathon doesn't leave his grove often, because there are enough Were-kin near Aldreth for them to get him what he needs.  It also gives them a chance to get a little exposure to humans."

 "Triana told me about that.  How some Were bring cubs there."

 Thean nodded.  "Aldreth is something of a training area for younglings.  It's a good thing it's there.  Whatever possessed you people to live so far out?"

 "Exactly," he replied.  "My parents moved there because it is so far out.  Everyone else who's there always lived there.  So for them, it's just home."

 "Don't you ever worry about raids?"

 "We've never had problems with raids," he replied.  "My father always thought it was because of the Frontier.  Goblinoids are afraid to come out of the mountains."

 "That's why they're afraid.  Were-kin hate Goblinoids.  We kill them whenever we find them."

 "So I guess the Woodkin protect the villagers from Goblinoids in the mountains, and no human bandits would come that far.  They'd starve to death.  The road to Aldreth is used about once a month."

 Thean laughed.  "I never thought that Woodkin would actually protect humans," he grinned.  "But it looks like they do.  Indirectly, anyway."

 "They get something back for it," Tarrin shrugged.  "If Aldreth were a dangerous place to live, there wouldn't be anyone living there.  It's so far out, the king wouldn't even bother sending men to protect it."

 "True, true," he agreed.  "It's not a one-sided relationship.  The humans get our protection, and in return they trade with us.  And I have to admit, they're very fair.  I always thought they'd try to gouge us."

 "It's against village law," Tarrin told him.  "Treat the strangers from the Frontier like they were your neighbors, because they are.  Your people get the same prices the villagers get."

 "You have some very smart laws there, Tarrin."

 "Common sense rules in Aldreth, Thean.  That should be all the law people would need."

 Thean laughed.  "If only the world lived by that law," he said.  "Feeling alright?"

 "I'm getting a little tired, but I'm alright," he replied.  "I'll be fine.  I'm just glad to be outside."

 "Be that as it may, Triana will skin me if I don't bring you back.  She said a short walk, and Triana always says exactly what she means."

 "I noticed that too."

 "That's a good thing.  It'll keep you healthy."

 Tarrin laughed.  "That common sense thing comes in handy."

 The talk with Thean did wonders for Tarrin's mood.

 He sat in his room, playing a bit with one of his blankets, thinking about what the older male had to say.  Thean proved he was a very wise Were-cat, and he had that calm common sense that reminded him alot of his own father.  His conversation had calmed Tarrin down a great deal, mainly because he now had a better idea of what to expect, and what others would expect from him.

 Not that it helped him much now.  He still felt like an outsider among the Were-cats, and in a way, he guessed that he was.  He didn't share their upbringing or their teachings. To him, they were all strange, different, unusual.  They didn't incite a fear in him the way strange humans did, but on the other hand, he wasn't about to open his arms and embrace them all as family.  He was pretty sure that they felt the same way about him, too.  They all treated him a little different, but he wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was turned or if he was hurt that made them do that. Maybe it was because they didn't know him.  Thean said that Were-cats were usually solitary, and that fit with their independent natures.  Maybe they weren't going to open up to him until they got to know him better.  He'd already found ones he liked.  He liked Kimmie, but he had the feeling that was because he felt she understood what he went through a bit better than the others.  Mainly because she went through it too.  He liked Triana, naturally.  He found that he liked Mist, in a way other than compassion for her.  Her, he could understand, so it let him approach her on even ground.  In a way, she was alot like him, so he had a very good idea of how to approach her.

 That made him look at the manacles.  They were still sitting on the nightstand, laying there waiting for him to pick them up and put them back on.  They represented everything that had probably made him the way he was.  They were his reminders to never put his trust in humans again, and their weight was always there to keep his attention on them, to remember whey they were there, keep him from falling into that trap.  He didn't know if Triana understood why he wore them, but at least she didn't have them thrown out.  They were symbols, symbols of what happened when he trusted humans, symbols of what was waiting for him if he dropped his guard.  He hated them, but he wouldn't stop wearing them, because enduring their presence was much better than forgetting the lesson that they were there to teach him.

 Sitting on the edge of the bed, he sighed and reached down and picked one of them up.  It was heavy, made of steel, and its surface was heavily scarred, nicked, and pitted from all the times he had used the manacles to parry weapons.  At least in that sense, they served him in a practical manner.  He held it up and stared at it a long moment, then held up his other paw and concentrated enough to make it a human hand.  The manacle wouldn't slide on over his paw, but it would go over his human hand.  His wrist was alot thicker when his paw was attached to it, and it was to that wrist that the manacle was fitted.  The pain of the human hand gnawed at him slightly, but it wasn't there long enough to try to tune it out.  He slid the manacle over that hand, over the wrist, and he held it there as his arm and hand reverted to their natural shape.  The manacle slid a bit as it found its old place on his wrist, coming to a rest just behind the wrist bones.  After twisting it into position, he repeated the procedure with the other arm.  Their weight felt unusual after long days without them, but in another way, it felt more natural.  He had worn them for so long, they nearly felt like part of his arms.  And they wouldn't let him forget.

 He would never be a slave again.  He would never be held in thrall to another, ever again.  He would never place blind trust in someone again.  He had trusted Jula, and she had turned on him and locked that collar around his neck.  She had paid for her acts, though, so he really had no more malice towards her.  She was dead now, long dead, though killing her was never meant to be the punishment.  Her punishment was to know how he had felt, to lay there helpless and feel her life draining away, and know that she was powerless to stop it.  That was how he had felt when imprisoned within his own body by that damned collar, then when he had went berzerk and killed so many people.  How it felt to be completely out of control.  That was what he wanted her to feel.  He had gotten even with the Keeper as well for her part in all that, in the Tower's part that turned him Were.  He knew now that she was just doing what the Godess told her to do, but he still couldn't forgive her for ruining his life.  He held her responsible for everything that had happened to him, and no matter how much he knew that that wasn't true, he really didn't care.  He had to have someone to look at and blame for what had happened, and the Keeper fit that description nicely.  It was irrational, but he didn't care.

 The door opened, and Triana stepped in as Tarrin twisted the second manacle into place.  She looked at him, then looked at his arms, and then she shook her head sadly.  "I was hoping you'd give those up, cub," she said in a gentle tone.

 "No," he said quietly.  Grimly.  "Ask Dolanna what these mean to me, then ask yourself if I should give them up.

 "I already know what they mean to you," she told him.  "I hoped that your time with us would lessen that in you."

 "I am what I am, mother.  These," he said, holding them up, "are a part of what I am.  If anything, my kin out there make me even more nervous and edgy.  They're strangers to me, mother.  Almost alien.  They make me feel things I don't understand, and their presence makes me do things I don't like.  I may not trust humans, but at least I understand them, and I'm used to them."

 "Do those make it any better?"

 "No, but they keep it from getting any worse," he replied.  "As long as I wear them, I won't let myself get caught in that trap again."

 "And they'll keep you from overcoming your distrust and making new friends."

 "Better a few real friends than fifty false ones," he replied bluntly.

 Triana moved slightly, in time for Mist to come around her and look at him.  Her eyes softened considerably when she looked at him, as her guard lowered in his presence, and she actually smiled at him.  "Tarrin," she said in her strong voice.  "Triana told me, told me that I've conceived.  We won't have to try again."

 "She told me, Mist," he assured her.  "Do you feel alright with it?"

 "I feel whole, Tarrin," she replied with a warm look.  "For the first time in a very long time, I feel whole.  And I wanted to thank you again."

 "You're leaving?"

 She nodded.  "I want to be home, home for my baby.  I don't want to take any chances."

 "You're being paranoid, Mist," Triana snorted.

 "I don't care," she snapped in reply.  "I'm not doing anything to risk losing the baby.  I want to be home before I start filling out."

 "What about Kimmie?" Triana asked.

 "She's coming with me," she replied.  "We had a long talk, Tarrin, like you said we should.  She's going to help me until I have the baby."  She looked at him and smiled.  "If it's a girl, then I'll name it Elke.  If it's a boy, I'll name it Eron."

 His parents' names.  Tarrin was a bit startled at that, that she even knew the names of his parents, but her announcement didn't fail to send a warm feeling through him.  "I'd be honored, Mist, and so would my parents."

 "The cub is also yours, Tarrin.  I'll never forget that."

 "It's still not necessary."

 "I don't care if it is or not," she said bluntly.  "It's what I want."

 "Then that's good enough for me," he told her.

 She approached him and embraced him warmly, then kissed him.  "Thanks for everything you've done for me," she said with a gentle smile.  "I can't ever repay you."

 "I don't need to be repaid, Mist.  Just be happy.  That's all I ask."

 "I will," she promised.  "We have to go now.  We have a long way to go.  Take care of yourself."

 "I'll watch him, Mist," Triana told her with a faint smile.

 "You'd better.  If you let him get killed, I'll kill you.  Be well, Tarrin.  I hope we'll see each other again soon."

 "Take care of yourself," he replied to her.  She only smiled at him, then she turned and left the room.

 Mist.  If anything good came of anything that had happened to him, then it had to be her.  Just knowing that she was going to be alright was enough for him, that she had found a trust and love for Kimmie that both of them had so desperately needed.  Mist wouldn't be alone anymore, and that was all he could hope to ask.  Being turned Were, all the pain and heartache, it all paled in comparison to what that poor woman had endured for hundreds of years.  If his pain brought her peace, then it was a good trade.  She was in much more desperate need of peace than he ever was.  He didn't love her, but he found that he did care for her, a great deal.

 "I hope she'll be alright," he sighed.

 "She'll be fine," Triana told him.  "It's things like that that give me hope for you, cub," she said gently. "You're feral, but your heart is still deep.  You want to help people, even the very people you fear and distrust.  Just be very careful with it, my cub.  Don't let your conflicting ideals tear at you.  Find ways to satisfy both of them."

 "I'll try, mother," he promised.

 "Now then, since Mist got in her goodbye, it's time to go back to your lessons," she said in a brusque voice.  "We're running out of time, and you still have much to learn."

 "Yes mother," he said, sitting back down on the bed.  "Let's get it overwith."

 The days began to flow by for Tarrin, as a regiment of sorts evolved from his daily activities.  He would get up, eat breakfast, then learn.  Then they had lunch.  Triana would let him go out for walks and other light exercise, which he spent most often with Allia, Dar, and Dolanna and Faalken, then he would go back to lessons until supper.  The time after supper belonged exclusively to Allia.  Then he would go to sleep, get up, and do it all again.

 The lessons began to drag on for him.  He learned many exotic and seemingly senseless customs of many of his forest cousins, customs that seemed silly.  But all it took was one hostile look from his bond-mother, and he was very attentive until his fear of her began to be eroded away by the boring subject matter.  He learned the customs of the Faeries, the Pixies, the Brownies, the Gnomes--he'd thought they were all dead--the Centaurs, the Dryads, and a slew of other Woodkin races.  He also learned the customs they all used to deal with the Druids, and he received an education on the Fae-da'Kii, the castout races of their magical society. Beings like Vampires, Lamias, and Leucrotta, for example.  There were a great many of them, and Triana's teachings only centered on being able to identify them.  He also learned some customs of the Goblinoids, but he found that his father's Ranger training, which he passed down to his son, already covered a great majority of that lesson.

 Dolanna sat in on his lessons less and less, absorbed in her own lessons with Dar and Faalken.  She was teaching them the language of the Sha'Kar, a language that only they could speak, a language that would absolutely ensure the security of any information they had to pass between themselves.  Her teaching style was half Sorcery, half more standard teaching.  She used Sorcery to implant a basic working knowledge of the language in their minds, then expanded on that with her lessons to reinforce it.  Teaching using Sorcery wasn't as effective as learning information the old fashioned way, and that was why she only used it to teach them the basics, then have them learn for themselves the rest of it.  That learned knowledge would reinforce the magically granted knowledge, and make them retain it.  That was the flaw with magical teaching, that the information faded from the mind over time.  Dar was struggling with it, but surprisingly, Faalken turned out to be an apt pupil of the dead language.

 The injury in Tarrin's chest faded with each passing day, until the chronic pain was completely gone.  It reached the point where it only hurt when he moved the wrong way, and could enjoy a little bit more strenuous activity.  When he reached that threshold, Triana allowed him to go out for long walks.  She had other Were-cats accompany him, both to continue his instruction and allow him to get a feel for his own kind.  He got to know Rahnee, Singer, and Shirazi a little better, and became good friends with Thean.  Laren, on the other hand, didn't get anywhere near him.  Tarrin didn't like Laren at all, and Triana kept the two of them seprarated.  Laren was a delicate little wisp of a Were-cat, nearly too weak to protect himself, and that weakness aggravated Tarrin to no end.  Tarrin could thrash him easily, even with his injury, and his past insults and slights, and the horrible disrespect he showed to his mother, burned at him every time he saw the little fluff's face.

 He also got to meet a few new Were-cats.  They had drifted in late, or were just passing through, and he learned that Thean was very correct.  That Were-cat females tended to act more aggressive in groups, and that Were-cat personalities were very widely spread over the spectrum.  He met Nikki, Triana's youngest.  To his surprise, she was only fifteen years old, but she was fully grown.  He learned from Triana that a Were-cat reaches full maturity by age twelve, a full eight years or so before a human does.  The Were-cat physiology made them age at a rapid rate after birth, reaching puberty around age eight or nine, and becoming a fully recognized adult at about age thirteen.  But once they reached that level, they remained thus until something killed them.  By the same time next year, Mist's cub would be the size of a two year old, though he'd be less than a year old.  He'd be crawling one month after birth, walking at three months, and capable of running by six months.

 Tarrin liked Nikki.  She was quiet and unassuming, probably still feeling her very young age when surrounded by such older Were-cats, and he could relate to her in that manner. Tarrin was actually older than she was.  She was the spitten image of her mother, but she had Thean's grayish striped fur.  He could see Thean in her.  There was no doubt who her sire was.  And strangely enough, she didn't act different around him in any way.  He didn't even know if she knew who her father was.  That shocked Tarrin's human sensibilities, but he wasn't sure how to ask about something like that.  He was positive that Nikki knew, but it was like that information meant nothing to her.  Thean was different from other males only in that she couldn't take him for mate.

 He also met Jale, the next eldest of the females.  Jale was alot like Triana, tall and very intimidating, but her face was much more open and expressive than his stone-faced bond-mother's was.  She was a gentle, kind woman, considerate and thoughtful, almost like a mother to everyone around her.  Where Mist represented the worst a Were-cat could be, Jale represented the best.  Everyone loved her and respected her, and Tarrin had to admit that she had a way about her that made even him feel a warm spot for her.   Where Triana intimidated with bullying, Jale intimidated with subtlety.  It was scary how she could make anyone do anything just by giving them the slightest of frowns.

 As the days passed, the inn's patronage changed.  Out of enemies to hunt down, Shirazi lost interest in staying.  Her eternal burning desire to hunt was just too powerful, and she and Singer left Shoran's Fork and returned to the Frontier.  Rahnee found Thean a more willing playmate than Tarrin, so after indulging herself a few times with him, she too drifted away.  Shayle and Nikki remained behind to catch up with their mother, but Tarrin's absolute intolerance for Laren forced the smaller Were-cat out of the inn, and eventually out of the city.  Just the scent of Laren was enough to work Tarrin up to a near fever pitch.  Jale only stopped in for a couple of days, long enough to get a look at Tarrin, and then she too was gone.  That left only Triana, Thean, Nikki, and Shayle, Triana's family of sorts.  Triana wasn't married to Thean, but it was obvious to anyone looking at them just where Thean's loyalties lay.  Thean adored Triana, and given his choice of partners, he would always choose her.  For her own part, Triana was very comfortable with the elder male, and when they were together, they looked like a pair of grandparents in how they acted towards each other.  That deep familiarity existed between them, just like a couple who had been together for a very, very long time.  Her stony mask and utter control of everything never wavered--Thean was clearly the submissive in their relationship--but it was also clear that she had deep feelings for the red-haired male.

 The day had dawned hot and cloudless, as summer grabbed the land in a fierce grip and squeezed.  The lands of Arkis were used to the brutal heat, for Arkis laid far south of his village home.  Tarrin could deal with the heat, but the stifling humidity was another matter.  The air was so heavy, it felt like he was breathing through wet cotton, and it pressed on him like a soggy blanket.  That too, he discovered, was normal.  Tarrin sat in the inn's dining room, enjoying a meal of thick slices of bacon, fresh bread, and a meat pie made from the leftovers of the night before.  Nikki sat with him, as did Allia.  Nikki was somewhat fascinated by the lithe Selani, and they had spent a good deal of time talking with one another.  Allia seemed to like Nikki, for she was bright, intelligent, and curious about all things.  Her desire to learn was sincere and infectious, and Allia often found herself telling the young Were-cat female more than she really meant to say.

 "If the brands are the marks of adulthood, then why does Tarrin have them?" Nikki asked in her chiming voice.  Nikki had a lovely voice, a rich, clear soprano voice, a voice that could make music cry if she ever used it in song.

 "Tarrin is my brother, Nikki," Allia said simply.  "You know that."

 "I've heard you call him that.  I thought it was a Selani custom."

 "No.  Tarrin is my deshida, my brother in all but blood.  When he accepted me as his sister, he also accepted the brands as proof of his devotion to our bond.  I cannot have a brother who is not a recognized member of my people.  The brands give him that recognition."

 "It must have hurt," she said insightfully.

 "It wasn't pleasant, but the pain is part of the rite," Tarrin replied.  "You have to be willing to endure it, to prove you're worthy of them."

 "Ouch."

 "I screamed," Tarrin admitted.  "They hurt for days afterward."

 "Admitting to pain is acceptable.  Flinching under it is taboo," Allia told Nikki.  "Part of the rite calls for the one branded to hold completely still while the iron is applied.  If one moves, he takes a bad brand, and is dishonored."

 "I thought he was cast out."

 "There is no law that forces it, but one who takes a bad brand often leaves, rather than bring dishonor to the rest of the clan."

 "That sounds nearly cruel.  To be punished for the rest of your life for one moment of weakness."

 "The desert is a harsh land, Nikki.  If some of our customs seem barbaric, consider the lands in which we live.  We are the soul of our land."

 "That's a strange thought," Nikki mused.  "It makes sense, though.  Mother told me you have another sister, like Tarrin."

 "Not like Tarrin," Allia chuckled.  "Keritanima is nothing like Tarrin."

 "Kerri is definitely unique," Tarrin agreed.  "She's got as much will as Triana, she's a very determined woman.  She's the smartest woman I think I've ever known, and what makes her so special is that she knows how to use her brains.  She's never without a plan."

 "If she can stick with them," Allia smiled.  "Keritanima gets impulsive when things get crazy."

 "Things always seem to work out, though.  I like that about her," Tarrin told his sister.

 "As do I," she agreed.  "Keritanima is my sister, the same way Tarrin is my brother.  And they are brother and sister to each other.  We are something of a family, Nikki, a very tight-knit family."

 "She's branded too?"

 They both nodded.  "She took it alot better than I did, but at least I didn't complain for a ride afterward," Tarrin said.

 "How did you meet?"

 "We were all students in the Tower, in Suld," Allia replied.  "We met there.  Tarrin was the only reason I did not go mad there, and Keritanima's incredible mind was what got us out of the Tower alive.  We have been through a great deal together."

 "We didn't do it alone, though," Tarrin said.  "If it hadn't been for Dolanna and Faalken, Miranda and Zak, Dar and the Vendari, Darvon, Ulger, Sevren and Tomas, we'd probably still be there."

 "All are worth great honor," Allia said seriously.

 "I've talked to Dolanna.  She seems like a very wise woman."

 "You have no idea," Tarrin said fervently.  "She's one of my best friends, and the only reason I didn't go crazy after Jesmind bit me."

 "Dolanna is the soul of our group, Nikki," Allia told her.  "Without her, we would all be lost."

 "Where is Dolanna?" Tarrin asked curiously.

 "She, Faalken, and Dar are with Renoit," she replied.  "The circus is going to end tomorrow.  Triana still has not said if you are ready to go, so I think she is there making sure he can hold over for us."

 "He's ready," Triana said from the doorway.  "More or less, anyway."

 "Mother," Nikki greeted with a smile.

 "Good morning, mother," Tarrin greeted.

 "Cubs, Allia," Triana acknowledged.  "Tarrin, we need to talk about something."

 "What?  In private?"

 "No, this will do.  I have someone I want you to meet."

 There was a calm, hesitant quality to her voice that told him that this wasn't just someone that he should meet.  This was someone important.  He stood up hesitantly as a strange buzzing sound reached his ears, and the strangest scent touched his nose.  It was something like cypress and cedar, mixed with the smell of flesh tinted with cinammon.  A very earthy, spicy smell.  The buzzing sound got louder, until it seemed to be coming from right in front of him.  A strange wavering appeared in the air in front of him, and then it faded away.

 It left in its wake the most exotic creature Tarrin had ever seen.  It was an exceptionally tiny female being, human-like in shape and form, but she couldn't stand more than a span tall.  Her skin was a bluish color, and her hair was auburn.  Her face was cherubic, very pretty, with wide cheeks and pert lips, her features tiny yet proportioned to her tiny body.  Her small eyes were an amber color not too much unlike the yellow of Keritanima's eyes, and she wore a simple halter over her tiny breasts and a skirt, both looking to be made out of spun spider's silk.  Her form was like a doll, but she was most definitely a mature female of her species.  She had the feminine body shape, with breasts and wide hips.  If she were Tarrin's size, she would be rather voluptuous.  The buzzing sound came from behind her, from a pair of dragonfly-like wings that were on her back, wings that beat the air to create that buzzing sound, and keep her aloft.

 It was a Faerie!  Tarrin stared at her in astonishment, then Triana's teachings managed to reach though his surprise.  He offered both his paws to her quickly, cupping them together and offering her a place to land.  She did so without a word, her wings slowing to a stop behind her, and she looked up at him quietly.  Those wings caught his attention.  They looked like a dragonfly's wing, and their chitinous length was a riot of conflicting pools and dabs of color.  The wings were opaque, and every time they moved, they caused scillinting reflections of light to dance along their lengths.  He'd seen a wing like that before, sitting in the box of private things that was now in Jenna's care.

 The wing he'd marvelled at for years was a Faerie's wing!

 "Done staring?" she asked in a very high-pitched, piping voice.

 "I'm--I'm sorry, but I was looking at your wings," he told her.  "I have one of them."

 "You have one of them?  It must be my size, then, and I doubt it can get you off the ground," she winked.

 "No, I have just the wing," he elaborated.  "I found it in the forest, and kept it."

 "Really?  You'll have to show it to me some day."

 "Tarrin, I'd like you to meet Sarraya.  Sarraya, this is Tarrin."

 "Pleased to meet you," Tarrin said, staring down at the exquisitely tiny thing he was holding in his paws.  He could easily crush her, she was so small.  He couldn't get over how tiny, how delicate she was.

 "You don't look as ferocious as they said you would," she grinned.

 "Sarraya is here as a representative of Fae-da'Nar, Tarrin," Triana said soberly.  "She's going to test you on what I've taught you.  Answer her questions, and treat her with respect."

 "I understand, mother," he said calmly.  That meant that the time had come.  He had to satisfy Sarraya that he understood the laws and the customs, that he wouldn't endanger the Woodkin.  If he could convince her of that, he would be accepted.  If he couldn't, he would be branded Rogue, and his mother, Nikki, and the rest of Fae-da'Nar would then have to kill him.  His very life was now in the Faerie's tiny blue-skinned hands.

 "Carry me somewhere private, Tarrin," Sarraya ordered.  "I don't want to have to do this with an audience.  It annoys me, and it probably won't do you much good either."

 "Of course," he answered her.

 Tarrin carried her carefully into one of the private dining rooms, and sat down.  She jumped down from his paws to the table, standing there and staring up at him with a very serious look.  "I'm sure you understand why I'm here, and what it means," she began.  "I want to tell  you right now not to be nervous.  Alot of my judgement comes from Triana, not from you.  She says you're fit to stand among us.  I just want to get to know you, and see if she's finally going to be wrong for once in her life."

 "It sounds like you want me to fail."

 "No, I just want you to relax," she replied cooly.

 "That's not the thing to say to do it."

 "No, but it let me see how you'd react when faced with unfavorable information," she winked.  "I'm going to say and do things that you may think odd, Tarrin.  Don't worry, I'm just trying to get a feeling for your state of mind.  I have nothing personal against you.  And on the other hand, I have no personal favoritism for you either.  I'm simply here to assess you.  Nothing more, nothing less."

 "Oh.  Alright."

 And so it began.  Sarraya grilled him on all the things he'd learned from Triana, from the four laws of Fae-da'Nar to the myriad customs he was expected to know.  Him holding out his paws for Sarraya had been one of those customs, allowing her to land somewhere so she could see his face.  That, he realized, had been his first test.  He answered her quickly and correctly at all times, so quickly that it looked to begin to irritate the tiny creature.  Her questions began getting more and more complicated, more abstract, hypothetical questions about what he should do in certain situations.  Some of them confused him, because Triana made no mention of creatures call Worgs, nor did she discuss what he was supposed to do if he found himself standing face to face with a Centaur arguing with a Dryad.  He relied on his common sense for those questions, things that he thought should be done to avoid fighting.

 "And what are these for?" she asked, pointing to his manacles.

 "They make sure I don't forget," he said with narrowing eyes.

 "Forget what?"

 "Forget what trusting people can bring me," he answered honestly.

 "Sounds like you don't like people."

 "I don't," he replied bluntly.  "I placed my trust in the Sorcerers, and then I found out they ordered this done to me," he said, holding out his paws.  "I placed my trust in a human woman I thought was a friend, and she repaid me by capturing me and holding me prisoner with magic.  I--" he closed his eyes.  "I killed alot of people getting out of there."  No matter how hard he felt towards that act, it never ceased to bring him a stab of pain.  But when they opened again, they were full of steely resolve.  "I don't trust humans anymore, Sarraya.  It's just that simple, and I'm not going to change.  So don't try."

 "Why would I try?  You are who you are, cub," she replied calmly.  "I'm not here to be your friend.  I'm here to make sure you can obey our laws.  Do you ever want to kill the humans?"

 "I don't got out of my way to do it, no," he replied.  "I won't let them get very close to me, though.  As long as they don't pressure me or bother me, I can tolerate them."

 "And if they do bother you?"

 "They don't," he said ominously.

 "Ah.  You have that stare thing down, I see," she said with a sudden grin.  "I thought you Were-cats practiced it.  I think now it's an instinct."  Her wings started up, and she buzzed up off the table and landed on his shoulder.  He felt her slight weight as she seated herself.  "Now take me to Triana," she ordered.

 "That's it?"

 "That's all I need to hear," she replied.

 Tarrin wasn't sure what to make of her abrupt ending of their conversation.   That she ended it with the manacles, and his aversion to humans, didn't seem to be a very good sign.  Either way, he would go on after she made her decision.  He had too much to do to die now, and he doubted that Triana would try to kill him seconds after Sarraya's judgement.  If worse came to worst, he could get away from his kin, get back on the ship and flee to Arak before it came to blows.  Regardless of his confidence, he was still very nervous as he entered the room and stared at the occupants.  Triana sat with her two daughters in the main dining room, with Allia.  Triana looked decidedly uneasy, but that was clamped down when Tarrin entered the room.  She stood immediately as Sarraya flitted off his shoulder, then landed in her cupped paws.  "Well?" Triana demanded.

 "He's got some rough edges," she said.  "Very rough edges.  But I think he can manage to live by our laws.  Congratulations, Triana, you can keep him."

 Triana blew out her breath, and Nikki unclasped her paws from where she'd been wringing them.  Shayle grinned at him brightly.  Allia rose and took Tarrin's paw fondly, and he put his arm around her.

 "A Selani," Sarraya said in interest, turning to look at her.  "Your wife?"

 "My sister," Tarrin replied.

 "You have exotic tastes in friends, Tarrin," Sarraya winked.  "I haven't seen a Selani in decades.  How fares your people, Selani?"

 "They prosper, as always, small one," Allia replied evenly.  That she was talking to a being that few people ever saw didn't seem to faze her in the slightest.  "Our land shelters us, and the Holy Mother Goddess watches over us."

 "Lucky you," Sarraya winked.  "Have any sweet rolls around here, Triana?  I've been dying for a pastry since I left home."

 "I'll have the cooks make you one, Sarraya," Triana promised.

 "A small one.  I don't want to weigh myself down with a full belly."

 "They can't make one small enough for you, sprite," Triana challenged.  "Just break off what you want."

 "I hate waste," Sarraya grunted.

 "You have four other mouths in here.  I'm sure one of them will finish it for you."

 "I don't like sharing either."

 "Suffer," Triana said, putting her down on the table, and then walking back to the kitchen.

 Sarraya turned to the two sister Were-cats easily.  "You're getting tall, Nikki," she noted.  "Last time I saw you, you were still wearing diapers."

 "If I still did, people would talk, Sarraya," Nikki replied.

 "Aren't you pregnant yet, Shayle?" Sarraya asked.

 "I've been trying, but Thean won't look at me with Triana here, and Tarrin won't cooperate."

 "Shame on you, cub," Sarraya turned on him and winked.  "Making Shayle go without."

 "She didn't ask nicely," Tarrin drawled.

 "I'm starting to think that it takes a large club to get Tarrin's attention," Shayle complained.  "He won't tell me how Mist managed--"

 "Mist?  You were jumped by Mist?" Sarraya asked in surpise.

 "There's a story behind it, but the short answer is yes," Tarrin replied.

 "Have a seat, boy.  You have some talking to do," she said, pointing at a chair by the table where she stood.

 "I thought Triana would tell you about that."

 "She just told me you healed Mist's scars.  She never said anything about that."

 Tarrin sat down, as did the others, and Tarrin calmly repeated the circumstances around his relationship with Mist.  He didn't feel very embarassed to talk about it in front of four females, at least until he got around to the conceiving part.  He glossed over that, focusing more on the fact that she was pregnant than how it happened.

 "Well," Sarraya said after he finished, "I'm certainly glad I decided you fit.  If I'd have known about this, I'd have accepted you no matter what."

 "Why?" Allia asked.

 "That was plain old compassion, Selani," Sarraya replied.  "That's a trait we like to see in Were-cats, because it doesn't show up very often."

 "We're not heartless, Sarraya!" Shayle objected.

 "You're not friendly either," Sarraya said, unperturbed.  "If you weren't so contrary, we wouldn't be so suspicious of you."

 "If you weren't so suspicious, we wouldn't be so contrary!" Shayle shot back, standing up and looming over the tiny Faerie.  "If you didn't notice, we don't react well to people that don't like us."

 Triana returned with a tray of sweet rolls, covered with a sweet honey icing.  "Children," she said calmly, setting it down beside Sarraya, "let's not be nasty.  Sarraya is our guest."

 "Yes, mother," Shayle growled, sitting back down grumpily.

 Tarrin mused staring at the Faerie.  The roll was nearly as large as she was.  What would it be like to go through life when one was so small?  She was the size of a doll.  Well, he reasoned, he did have something of an idea of that.  He lived for nearly three months as a cat, and his cat form was only a little taller than she was.  Larger than her, but at about the same eye level.  She sat down on the table, cross-legged, and hauled one of the rolls over next to her, then she began to eat.  He watched her eat, and he was astounded.  She nearly ate the entire roll!  It was almost as big as she was, yet she managed to eat more than half of it!  Where did the food go?  It didn't show on her.  Her belly wasn't distended or swollen.  It was almost like it vanished.

 "Keep staring at me, and I'm going to throw this at you," the Faerie warned.

 "I'm sorry, I'm just trying to get used to you," he said quickly.  "I've never seen anyone quite like you before."

 "Give him some slack, Sarraya," Triana said mildly.  "He's never seen a Faerie before.  You are rather interesting."

 "I think my brother marvels at your ability to eat, Faerie," Allia said boldly.  "You ate nearly half your own body weight, yet it does not show."

 Sarraya winked.  "Don't apply human or Selani norms to me," she chided.  "You should know better.  If you really have to know, we Faerie have very fast metabolisms.  Flying is alot of work, so we have to eat alot and often to keep in flying trim."

 "I guess that makes sense," Tarrin said after a moment.

 "I'm so glad you approve," she teased.

 "She reminds me of Faalken," Allia remarked.

 "I was about to say the same thing," Tarrin agreed.

 "Faalken?" Sarraya asked.

 "A Knight," Allia answered.  "Well known for his pranks and sense of humor."

 "I don't see anything wrong with that," Sarraya grinned.  "Life requires us to laugh at it."

 Tarrin wandered away from the others after enjoying the sweet pastry, going back into the room with the portrait of the Eastern man.  Accepted.  It felt a little strange to know that he no longer had to fear the Were-cats, or worry about Fae-da'Nar.  A good portion of his recent past was tied up with them, from his bizarre love/hate relationship with Jesmind to the touch-and-go encounters with Triana.  And the time between them was filled with a worry, a foreboding, of when they would come for him.  He had been Rogue, hunted, despised, but now a simple test had transformed him into an accepted member of their society.  That seemed illogical to him, but he discovered long ago that applying logic to Fae-da'Nar was a foolish undertaking.  Their rules were their own, and many of their customs seemed to be strange to him.  He stared at the portrait, his eyes riveted to the face of the exotic man.  He looked so serious, so august, as if he knew that his face would be seen by men and woman a world away, and wanting to make a very good impression on them.  He certainly impressed Tarrin.  The man had to be a ruler, a noble, because his carriage, expression, and the condition of his robe cried out that he was a man of importance and wealth.  Such men were often rulers, be it a ruler of a kingdom or a ruler of a large business.

 But to be accepted.  It was such a strange feeling, because he really didn't know any of the others.  Only Triana and Jesmind were familiar faces, Were-cats he knew and understood.  He really liked Triana, respected and admired her, even loved her.  Jesmind--well, Jesmind.  Jesmind was Jesmind, and there was so much emotion wrapped up with his fiery bond-mother that it was hard to sort out.  He had loved her and hated her, adored her and despised her, needed her and feared her.  Often at the same time.  Thinking of her never failed to send his mind spinning into the past, of the many images, sound, and scents he'd locked away in his memory of her.  He missed her, but on the other hand, a part of him was glad she had walked out of his life.  It had given him the strength to face up to life, to move on, and it had had a large part in the strength he had now when facing his daunting tasks.  He was now part of a larger whole, a whole that he didn't know, and didn't really trust.  He would take them one at a time, one day at a time, and just hope for the best.

 The far door opened, and through it strode a figure right out of most men's fantasies.  She was very tall, this woman, with the most exotic skin he'd ever seen.  It was coppery in shade, not dark like Azakar, not chocolate like Allia, but a strange reddish, bronzed copper hue that was totally unique.  Her hair was as black as a raven's wing, thick and long and straight, tied into a single thick tail behind her head that dangled well down her back, but with her bangs hanging raggedly over her forehead.  Her features were as exotic as her skin, with a boxy face that still managed to be quite lovely, and large green eyes that seemed to attract anyone's eyes to them because of their dark setting.  She had a wicked scar on the right side of her face, going from just under her ear and along her jawline to her chin.  She wore a leather haltar not too much unlike the haltar Sarraya had worn, a simple band of leather that went over her breasts, but it didn't start high enough to cover up her impressive cleavage.  The fact that it was laced in the front with a wide gap between the sides, exposing the majority of the inside slopes of her breasts, would drag a man's eyes down to view her buxom splendor. That majestic slope nestled a plain silver amulet hanging by a leather thong around her neck, an amulet with an arrowhead device in front of a woman's profile etched into it.  Her body was built like Jesmind's, all alluring curves and lines that were filled in with powerful muscle.  She wore a plain skirt of red cloth, a skirt that ended at her mid thigh, and was slit all the way up to her wide belt on the right side, a belt with a bronze buckle shaped like a falcon or some other raptor.  But if her shape, form, and appearance was female, blatantly female, the battered broadsword that hung off that leather belt declared to the world that this was a warrior.  Her gaze was like a hawk, taking him in with only one glance, sizing him up.  Her scent was a strangely appealing smell of musk, brass, and spice, a scent mingled with the leather of her belt, haltar and scabbard, the steel of her sword, the animal-hair smell of the skirt around her waist, and the bronze of her belt buckle.  There was also a hint of some kind of berries on her, but it emanated from her straight black hair.

 Then she smiled.  That was a strange thing.  "It took me long enough," she announced in a powerful, husky voice.

 "Long enough for what?" he asked, curiosity overriding his wariness over this stranger.

 "To find you," she replied bluntly.

 That made him nervous.  Was this another assassin, like the dangerous Jegojah?  If so, why did they send a human to do what a Doomwalker had failed twice to accomplish?  She had to be the best there was, if that was the case.  But that seemed impossible.  Her coppery skin, that face, those features, Tarrin had never seen them, but he had heard all about them more than once, and he had seen someone who shared her exotic appearance.

 Koran Dar, the Divine seat.  And Koran Dar was an Amazon.

 Was this woman a fabled Amazon, the race of warrior-women from the isles off the southern continent of Sharadar?

 If so, how did such strange females keep finding ways to come into his life?

 Don't say it, the voice of the Goddess echoed in his mind.  It was stern, and maybe just a little indignant.  Just don't say it.  And welcome your new travelling companion.

 "Her?" he said in astonishment, making her give him a sidelong look.

 I have her on loan from the Goddess of the Amazons, the voice of the Goddess answered.  Because of your, predisposition, against humans, it was decided that one more like your own mother would have a better chance of being accepted by you.  Camara Tal certainly fits that description.

 Why her? he asked silently.

 Because you lost Azakar, she replied immediately.  You needed Azakar, kitten, but now he's stuck with Keritanima.  Camara Tal will replace him for the time being.

 I don't understand, Tarrin thought helplessly.

 You can't understand, my kitten, she replied gently.  Just take it on faith.  You'll like Camara Tal, kitten.  She's alot like what you expect from a female.  Blunt, fiesty, and powerful.  Just like all the other women in your life, she added with a light cascade of laughter.  So it's not how they keep coming into your life, it's how I can find so many women who fit that very narrow image you have of compatible females.  It's all your fault, she teased.

 And then her presence was gone, leaving him feeling slightly hollow, like she had taken a little piece of him with her.

 "You're not filling me with confidence, boy," Camara Tal said dangerously.  "What are you about?"

 "Nothing, nothing," he sighed, looking at her boldly.  "That's certainly...interesting clothing."

 "Bah," she snorted.  "What is it about you northerners that makes you so uppity?"

 "From your look, you're an Amazon.  Why are you so far away from home?"

 "You are," she replied flatly.  "I was sent here by my Goddess.  She tasked me to find you, and when I did, to protect you."

 "Me?  Why me?"

 "Because my Goddess is friends with yours," she answered.  "I know who you are and what you're doing.  I was sent her to help you."

 "Then who am I?"

 "Tarrin Kael," she replied immediately and without wavering.  "Unless things have changed, you're holed up here with your bond-mother and a pack of other Were-cats.  You also have a Selani, a Knight, a Sorceress, and an Initiate here with you.  I was told that all I had to do to earn your confidence was tell you the name Janette.  Am I far off the mark?"

 Tarrin gaped at her.  Nobody except his sisters, his birth parents, Dolanna, and the Goddess knew about Janette.  It was a secret he kept very secret, because his attachment to her could give his enemies a way to strike at him without him being able to do anything about it.  "Uh, no, not anymore," he replied uncertainly.

 "I don't have time for these games, stripling," she said cooly.  "I was sent here to keep your head on your body, and I take my job seriously.  I was also sent here to help you in your mission, any way I can, and I intend to do that too.  Where do we start?"

 Tarrin was a bit taken aback by this abrupt stranger.  "Start?  We're not doing much of anything right now," he replied.  "Just waiting."

 "For what?  I don't have much time, and it looks like I have alot to catch up on."

 "I think we'd better talk to Dolanna first," he said.

 "Dolanna?  The Sorceress?"

 Tarrin nodded.  Whoever told her about him had given her some thorough information.

 Triana appeared in the other doorway, and suddenly Tarrin felt like he was caught between two mastiffs.  The two women immediately stared at each other, and he wasn't sure if they were going to start fighting right then and there.  But then Triana did the strangest thing.

 She smiled.

 "It's been a long time, Camara Tal," she said easily.  Tarrin stared at his bond-mother in total shock.  How did she know an Amazon?  How did the Amazon that Triana knew end up here?

 This had the Goddess' hands all over it.  He was positive.

 "It certainly has, Triana," the Amazon replied.  "I didn't know he was yours."

 "You know about him?"

 "My Mistress sent me here to protect him," she told the Were-cat elder.

 "How do you know her?" Tarrin blurted.

 "I met Camara about ten years ago," Triana replied calmly.  "In Dayisè.  It was a chance meeting, but we managed to get along well enough."

 "I didn't know she was Were until the day before I left," Camara Tal finished.  "I thought she was human."

 "Why did you come all the way up here over him?" Triana inquired.

 "He's got the attention of alot of people on him, Triana," she replied.  "He's not just a Mi'Shara, he's the Mi'Shara.  Anyone who hasn't figured that out yet is so far behind that they don't matter anymore."

 "Tarrin is the Mi'Shara?" Triana asked in surprise.

 Camara Tal simply nodded.

 He had heard that term only a few times before, but he couldn't remember exactly when and where, or what it meant.  "What does that mean?" he asked in concern.

 "It means, cub, that your life is in serious danger," Triana said gruffly.  "Mi'Shara is a term in the langauge of the Ancients that's used to describe non-human Sorcerers.  Its literal meaning is he who once was or she who once was, depending on how it's used by the speaker.  There's an old legend that says that a Mi'Shara has the best chance of passing the Three Trials that protect the Firestaff.  In other words, of all the people that may try, you have the best chance of succeeding.  Half the world wants you dead because of that, and the other half probably wants to follow you, so they can take the Firestaff from you once you do get your paws on it."

 That wasn't new information.  The Goddess had told him that as well, back when she had originally pressed him into this crazy mission.  He still remembered her exact words:  But of all those who seek the Firestaff, you, Tarrin Kael, Mi'Shara, you have the best chance to succeed.  But to hear it from them, to realize that they understood alot more than he did, it was frightening.

 "You knew about that?" he asked Triana.

 She nodded.  "It's an old myth," she replied.  "I never held much water to it.  I guess I was wrong."

 "He is the Mi'Shara, Triana," Camara Tal said.  "My Mistress told me what the Goddess of the Sorcerers told him to do with it, and she supports it.  So she sent me to aid in his quest."

 "What did she tell you to do with it?" she asked him intently.

 "To keep it away from everyone else," he replied honestly.  "To make sure it isn't used."

 "I can agree to that," Triana grunted.  "And I think I'd better make some arrangements."

 "Why?" Tarrin asked.

 "I knew about what you were doing, but I honestly thought that you wouldn't pull it off.  I figured to see you drag your tail home in about a year with empty paws.  I didn't realize that you were one of the big players, that you really have a good chance to pull this off.  I think Fae-da'Nar probably wants to have a say in who gets their paws on that old relic."

 Tarrin's head was spinning.  He sat down heavily on a chair near the table in the private dining room, sitting on his own tail.  The pressure caused his mind to focus.  Camara Tal, he could deal with.  It was obvious that the Goddess had arranged her appearance to help him, so he felt he could give her the benefit of the doubt.  She'd still have to prove she was worthy of his trust, however.  But to find out that Camara Tal knew his bond-mother!  That Triana knew as much as she did about the Firestaff.  He had never told her much about it, and she had never asked.  She was more interested in teaching him than learning more about what he was doing.  She knew what he was doing, but as she said, she didn't realize that he was as serious about it as he was.

 "I think you'd better have Allia go get Dolanna and the others, cub," Triana said after a moment.  "I have some people to talk to.  Do not leave the inn unless I directly tell you that you can.  I think we all need to sit down and have a long talk."

 "Don't worry about him, Triana," Camara Tal said confidently.  "Tarrin's safety is my responsibility now.  I won't let him do anything stupid."

 "Good," Triana said with a nod, then she turned and left without another word.

 Tarrin glared a bit at Camara Tal.  He wasn't a fool, nor was he an idiot.  That she felt he needed a babysitter was insulting.  "I don't need someone watching me at all times," he warned her.

 "That's not your decision, Tarrin," she said directly.  "It's my responsibility to keep you alive and whole.  How I do that is not up for debate.  You will do what I tell you to do, because I told you to do it.  Not because I like bossing you around, not because you're capable of taking care of yourself, but because it's my duty to protect you.  I take my duties seriously.  You don't want to find out how seriously I take them," she warned.

 Tarrin developed both a seething resentment of this demanding Amazon, and a strange respect.  Her manner and her words were very similar to the stoic duty he'd seen from Binter and Sisska, the quiet, ever-present bodyguards for Keritanima and Miranda.  They had taken their duties just as seriously as Camara Tal seemed to be over him.  He'd respected them for their quiet devotion, and he found he could respect Camara Tal in the same manner.  Camara Tal was putting her life on hold to come and do her goddess' bidding, to protect a complete stranger from harm who would probably be a pain in her butt.  At least in that way, he found respect and a little admiration for the intimidating Amazon warrior.

 And the Goddess was right.  She reminded him a great deal of his mother, Elke.  She also had that same no-nonsense aire as Triana.   This was a woman he found he could respect, because of her strength.  Tarrin could appreciate strength.  He realized that he wouldn't take a "normal" human woman, a submissive mewling female with no more will than livestock, seriously.  Any female--anyone, for that matter--that wanted to deal with him had to be willing to stand up to him, and it seemed that Camara Tal was more than willing to do just that.  He didn't scare her, he didn't intimidate her, and he respected her a great deal for that.

 "I can respect that," he told her seriously, standing up and looking down at her, "but you have to respect me.  I don't need someone to hold my paw, Amazon.  I'm more than capable of fighting for myself.  I just need someone to help watch my back."

 "We'll see," she said calmly.  "For now, let's talk to your other friends, so they can get to know me, and I can find out who runs this circus of fools."

 Allia went to go get Dolanna, and Tarrin found himself spending that waiting time with Camara Tal.  She was a quiet woman, alot like Binter and Sisska, perfectly willing to stand by the door in complete silence.  She simply crossed her arms, leaned against the wall, and waited.  She unnerved Tarrin, more than a little bit.  She was a stranger, but that wasn't what worried him.  It was the fact that he felt she was going to cause him some serious trouble.  Azakar had also been told to protect him, but Tarrin had managed to browbeat and intimidate the Mahuut into giving up on that idea.  This woman, he would not be able to push around so easily.  She wasn't afraid of him, and since she was an unknown, he wasn't sure if it was bravado or confidence that was making her so fearless.

 He noticed something about her, something that seemed strange.  She was obviously a warrior, but she didn't have a mark anywhere on her.  Just that scar on her cheek.  Allia had scars, as did he, and Faalken's arms and legs were crisscrossed with them.  But her skin was as smooth as a milkmaid's.  She looked at him as he studied her form, and her expression didn't change.  "You want me to lift my skirt so you can sniff under it?" she asked directly.

 Tarrin flushed.  "You don't have any scars," he pointed out.

 "I used to," she replied.  "I was a warrior before I answered the call of my Mistress and took up the faith.  She allowed me to remove my scars, except for this one," she said, rubbing her jaw with a thumb and a finger.

 "You're a priestess?" he asked in surprise.

 "I'd better be, or fifteen years of devotion was for nothing," she replied.

 "The priests of Karas aren't allowed to carry swords."

 "Then Karas is a fool," she said with a grunt.  "My goddess demands that her order be able to fight.  A sword is a suitably practical weapon."

 "The priests of Karas learn to fight, but with maces," he told her.  "Karas doesn't permit his order to shed the blood of enemies, because they're taught to try to avoid fighting whenever possible."

 "Foolishness," she snorted.  "They probably rely on their god and the spells he grants them."

 "I guess.  I just remember the stories Faalken's told of them.  He's a Knight."

 "My goddess demands her priestesses be self-sufficient," she said.  "We have to be able to fight for ourselves.  We also have to be able to farm, and to sew, and work leather and build with wood, because our duties to our people often force us to take up tools or a plow.  She grants us magic, but we don't use it unless we can't do something any other way.  To depend on her magic would make us soft, like those priests of Karas."

 Tarrin couldn't see anything wrong with that philosphy.  "Where did you meet Triana?"

 "In Dayisè," she replied.  "I came up again to track down my husband, and I met her while waiting for a ship to Suld."

 "Husband?  You're married?"

 "If you want to call it that," she snorted.  "He ran away on our wedding night.  If he wasn't in that damned Tower, I'd--"

 "Koran Dar!" Tarrin exclaimed in surprised.

 "Koran Tal," she said adamantly.  "And if he's using his birth name, he's got a lot to answer for," she snarled.  "How did you know him?"

 "There's only one Amazon in all of the Tower," he told her.

 "Figures," she sighed.  "He's my first husband.  He's from a small clan, given to me to marry to cement an alliance between my clan and his.  He went through with the wedding, but he vanished not long afterward.  He's a weak-willed little coward.  Sometimes I wonder why I bother coming up here every few years to try to steal him back."

 "He's no weakling," Tarrin said in defense of the Divine Seat.  "Maybe he just doesn't like you."

 "Liking me has nothing to do with fulfilling his obligations," she snapped.  "He embarassed me and my family when he took off. He'd only have to see me a few days a tenspan, anyway.  If he can't tolerate me that long, then it's his problem."

 Tarrin mulled over her words.  "First husband?" he asked curiously.  "How many times have you been married?"

 "I have three husbands and four concubines," she said calmly, giving him a cool look.  "Amazon society doesn't restrict a woman to just one husband.  She can have as many as she can arrange, and all the concubines she can buy."

 That startled him.  He'd heard of Arakite men who had more than one wife, but it was the first time he'd ever heard of a society where a woman could have more than one husband.  Then again, in Amazar, her home, all men were property.  Male children were owned by their mothers, and were sold to other women when they matured.  The women controlled the government, served in the armies and navies, and it seemed that they staffed the churches.  It was a reversal from strict sexist societies like Draconia, where women were little more than property.  In Draconia, women were there to make babies and keep the house clean.  It looked that those were the duties of an Amazon man.

 "What's the difference between a husband and a concubine?" he asked.

 "Husbands are noble-born males.  Concubines are commoners.  All three of my husbands are political marriages.  I keep my concubines because I like them."  She glanced towards the door.  Tarrin's ears picked up when he heard the sounds of Faalken's armor, and Dolanna's voice.  "We'll have plenty of time for me to educate you about how a society should be, boy," she said.  "It sounds like your Knight just got here, from all the clanking."

 "You have good ears."

 "If you don't pay attention, it makes it easy for someone to stick a dagger in your back," she said in her husky voice.

 She was a warrior, all right.  Or had once been one.

 Dolanna, Faalken, and Dar all three took their turns staring at the Amazon when they entered the dining room.  Allia came in behind them, but Camara Tal seemed oblivious to Dolanna's searching look, Faalken's lingering appreciation of her beauty, or Dar's fearful gawk at her.  "Uh, Dolanna, this is Camara Tal," Tarrin introduced.

 "My goddess sent me here," Camara Tal announced in her husky voice.  "I'm here to protect him, and help you as I can," she concluded, pointing at Tarrin.

 "Forgive my suspicion, but how are we to know this to be true?" Dolanna asked.

 "She's for real, Dolanna," Tarrin told her.  "The Goddess told me to accept her, and she knows enough that even if I wasn't warned, I'd still have to accept her."

 "Another visitation?" the Sorceress asked, and Tarrin nodded.  "Very well then, I guess we have no choice.  I will not go against the will of my Goddess."

 "Spoken like a true believer," Camara Tal said approvingly.  "Boy, if you don't stop staring at me, I'm going to give you a reason to look the other way," Camara Tal warned Dar, who was still gawking at her.

 "Dar's not used to seeing a human woman in such interesting clothes," Faalken said with a sly grin.

 "I see men are a universal constant," she said gratingly.  "Do you want to play at trying to catch a glimpse, or should we get it overwith now and lift my skirt?" she asked, reaching down and grabbing the hem of her skirt meaningfully.

 "Ah, no," Faalken said lightly.  "I prefer it when it's a challenge.  Free looks are cheap looks."

 If she took offense, she didn't show it.  She just let go of her skirt and crossed her arms beneath her breasts again.  "If I minded men looking, I wouldn't wear these clothes, but I hate it when people stare at me," she warned.  "Just get over it."

 "Yes ma'am," Faalken said impudently.

 "Faalken," Dolanna said calmly.  "I think we will welcome your aid, Amazon," she told the woman.  "Our number has been reduced, and another sword will be helpful."

 "That's why I'm here," she said easily.  "When do we leave?"

 "With Triana's blessing, we will be leaving tomorrow afternoon," she replied.  "A ship carrying a carnival will be taking us to Dala Yar Arak.  They are our cover to allow Tarrin and Allia to enter the city without being enslaved."

 "Clever," she said approvingly.  "But let's not leave anything out.  Start at the beginning.  I like to know what's going on."

 "Very well," Dolanna said.  "I think you may want to sit down.  This will take a while."

 Camara Tal was going to be a problem, Tarrin decided the next day.

 His things were packed, and he stood at the gangplank of the Dancer.  The ship was still garish and ugly, a floating eyesore, but in a strange way he was glad to see it.  For a solid month, they had been in Shoran's Fork, a month lost to the other players of the Questing Game, waiting for Tarrin to recover.  The pain was gone now, though it did twinge some when he moved too fast, and Triana had told him that morning that he was officially an adult.  She had no more hold over him, no more than the already vice-like control she could exert when she really wanted to.  He was free to go.

 Free.  It seemed a strange word, because he didn't feel free at all.  He was still bound to his mission, and Camara Tal had effectively made him feel like a prisoner again.  She wouldn't allow him to go out into the street without her, and she stayed close enough to him to step in in case of attack.  He already felt smothered by her presence.  He really had to find a way to make her give him some space, but without offending her or making her think that she wasn't doing her duty.  If there was one thing about her, it was that duty was everything to her.  She took her accepted duties as seriously as life and death, and he realized already that all he could hope for was to loosen her deathgrip on him a little rather than making her give up on it.

 The others were getting on board.  Tarrin stayed behind to say goodbye to his bond-mother and her two daughters, and to Thean.  They stood near him, accepting his goodbyes warmly, either hugging him or taking his paws.  Triana's stony mask broke a little when he kissed her on the cheek and thanked her for all she had done for him, and her eyes actually looked a little misty.

 "It was my pleasure, cub," she said with a warm smile.  "And I have one more surprise for you."

 "What is it?"

 "Me," a tiny, piping voice announced.

 He hadn't scented her until she blurred into view, sitting on Triana's shoulder.  Sarraya sat there sedately, looking at him with a quirky little grin.

 "Say hello to your new shadow," Triana said calmly.  "Sarraya has agreed to go with you, to help."

 "Why?" he asked.

 "Because you can't control yourself, cub," she answered flatly.  "You have no control over your Sorcery.  All it would take is one moment of weakness, and you'd try to use it.  If you do that, you'll kill yourself.  Sarraya here is a Druid, a strong Druid, and she has the power it takes to keep your power under control."

 "And I like you," Sarraya said with a grin.

 "That too," Triana smiled.  "She can be very useful to you, Tarrin, for obvious reasons.  Not only is she a Druid, she also has the magical powers of her kind.  And I know both of you are clever enough to find ways to use them wisely."

 "Well, I guess I can't stop you," Tarrin sighed, "and I know you'll just forbid me to go if I say no."

 "You're right," she said flintily.  "I've already taught Sarraya how to throttle you, so don't worry about it.  Just try not to test her, cub.  I put too much time and effort into you for you to just incinerate yourself in a moment of distraction."

 "I'll try not to, mother," he assured her.

 Sarraya flitted off of Triana's shoulder, and then landed lightly on his.  Her weight was barely more than a ghostly feather on his shoulder, but her scent told him that she was there.

 "Don't worry, Tarrin," Sarraya said.  "I think we'll get along fine."

 "Dolanna's going to love this," Tarrin grunted.

 "She'll be happy to have the help," Triana said.  "Now you have a couple of Sorcerers, a Priest, and a Druid along.  That's alot of magical firepower, and I have the feeling you may need it not too long from now."

 "I hope not," Tarrin said fervently.

 "Don't hope for what you can't have, cub, it's a waste of time," she snorted.  "I taught you better than that."

 "Tarrin, lad!" Renoit boomed from the ship.  "The tide, she is turning!  We must be on our way!"

 "I have to go," he told Triana with wistful eyes.  "I'm going to miss you, mother."

 They shared one more fierce embrace, and he took in the powerful scent and feel of his bond-mother one last time.  She had been everything that he had needed, right when he needed it.  A mentor, a guide, a friend, and someone to depend on.  She had relieved him of more than one burden, and because of her, he felt more hopeful for the future.  He also felt that now he had something to live for, something much more tangible than the hazy thoughts of his life after his mission had been completed.  She had brought a new focus into his life, had allowed him to see past the moment and look into the future, gave him hope that there would be a life for him when he returned from his mission.  He didn't know if he'd ever see her again, but he was certain that she had changed his life for the better.

 He let go of her reluctantly, then turned and clasped paws with Thean one more time.  "Thanks alot, Thean, you really helped me," he said sincerely.

 "Any time, cub," Thean smiled.

 "Goodbye, Nikki, Shayle," he said to Triana's daughters, then he rose up on his toes and kissed his bond-mother on the cheek one more time.  "I love you, mother."

 "And I love you," she said in a trembling voice.  "Now go on, cub.  They're waiting for you."

 "Come on, Tarrin, it's time to go!" Sarraya said in a voice full of anticipation.  "Travel, adventure, monsters, intrigue, danger, and scary things await us!  Let's go!"